


New Beginnings

by SyntheticWinter



Category: Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntheticWinter/pseuds/SyntheticWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his worst days, Jack’s words rang in his ears. </p>
<p>Post-Cyberwoman S1x04</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

On his worst days, Jack’s words rang in his ears. _There is no place for you here, and there never will be_. Spoken with quiet, precise venom.

On his worst days, he wondered if Jack wasn’t right.

There were at least two deaths on his hands, and he’d almost gotten them all killed, and he’d endangered the entire planet in the process. And all for nothing. He couldn’t save Lisa. He wanted to laugh bitterly, but even that seemed to take too much effort these days. The very reason he had sought out Torchwood Three had resulted in… this. Destruction. Suspension. And worst of all, the loss of the team’s trust. Worst of all, the loss of _Jack’s_ trust.

He hadn’t realized how he’d prized the other man’s regard until he’d lost it.

He stared at the ceiling and counted the shadows. This flat felt emptier than it ever had. A few of Lisa’s things from when he’d been hopeful, almost none of his since he’d been spending all his time at the Hub. Few personal touches, little furniture. Spartan. Barren.

One of the shadows on the edge of his vision moved, and he glanced at it, idly wondering what cast it. It shifted again and he followed it to the window. A tree, then. He lost interest.

What would he do now? Where would he go? He doubted he’d return to Torchwood Three. Despite Jack insisting this was just a suspension, it felt like so much more. None of them would ever trust him again. All the tentative bridges he’d started to make, the little reaching out he’d started to do, the relationships he’d started to build – all gone. Maybe there really _was_ no place for him there.

The shadow moved again, briefly recapturing his attention. It hadn’t been that windy earlier. Or had it? He honestly couldn’t remember.

But if not Cardiff, then where? Rhiannon lived in London, but there were too many memories there. And… that was it. He’d never really got around to making friends at Torchwood One ( _they’d all be dead, anyway_ , his mind whispered), and he had no one here besides his colleagues. Who hated him now.

Maybe he would get lucky. Maybe Jack would decide to Retcon him after all. Or kill him. Do everyone a kindness.

The window rattled, then squealed something awful as it was raised, admitting one Jack Harkness.

“Good thing you’re on the ground floor. Never have liked climbing trees,” Jack remarked conversationally, brushing a couple of fallen leaves off the sleeve of his coat. Ianto’s eyes followed their descent to the floor, for once not really caring that there was something on his carpet that didn’t belong there.

Jack looked around the room. “Nice place. Little boring. Not that _you’re_ boring – I just get the feeling you don’t spend a lot of time here.” His gaze cut into Ianto until the younger man looked away, back to the ceiling. Anywhere but at Jack. He hadn’t bothered to sit up yet, and he wasn’t sure he was going to. It was easier to just lie here and hope Jack would go away. Or something.

“Sorry about the window, by the way. I’ll have the screen replaced. I would’ve used the front door, but I left the key at the Hub. Figures,” Jack continued, almost sounding sheepish. Ianto glanced over at him again, briefly considering why Jack has a key to his flat when Ianto has never given him one, but when Jack’s self-deprecating smile caused an ache in his chest he looked away again.

Jack strode over to Ianto’s closet and threw it open, immediately leaning in to pull out various items of clothing and toss them haphazardly over his shoulder at Ianto. “Here. Get dressed.” Ianto sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, catching a shirt as it was thrown his way. He stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment. What was he supposed to do, again?

A pair of jeans landed next to him, closely followed by a zip-up hoodie. Jack paused to look at him, frowning in concentration. “Actually, why don’t you go take a shower first? Might do you some good.” When Ianto made no move to stand, Jack strode over and grabbed his arm, tugging him up. He stumbled a little along the way, but Jack successfully got him out his bedroom door and across the hall into the bathroom, where he proceeded to strip Ianto rather efficiently. Ianto stared dumbly at the wall while Jack started the shower, testing the water until he was satisfied, and urged Ianto under it. “Can you handle this?” he asked, and the serious tone of his voice made Ianto believe that if he said no, Jack would stay and wash him. As tempting as that might have been a week ago, Jack’s mere presence was starting to set his nerves on edge.

He nodded; then, not knowing how much time had elapsed since Jack had asked the question, managed a quiet “Yeah.” His voice was raspy from disuse

Jack gave him a quick nod and a searching look before disappearing back into his bedroom.

Ianto then turned to the daunting task before him. He stood beneath the water, staring at the tiled wall, vaguely wondering how Jack had set the water to the perfect temperature on the first try. He blinked as a stray drop of water landed on his eyelashes, and the world blurred a bit. He blinked again and felt the drop roll down the side of his face, only to have another take its place. He turned his face farther out of the water, but the drops didn’t stop.

He was, he realized with some astonishment, crying.

In the days between the… incident with what used to be Lisa and now, he hadn’t shed a single tear. He hadn’t slept or eaten much, or done much of anything other than stare at nothing, but he hadn’t cried. Not until Jack showed him the barest hint of a kindness he didn’t deserve. Interesting how that could break a person.

When he emerged from the shower long minutes later, it was to find Jack reclining casually on his bed, flipping through a stack of photos. Beside him was a considerably neater pile of clothing, including underwear and socks. He couldn’t seem to muster up any outrage, either at Jack going through his drawers or at Jack’s obvious invasion of privacy – that box had been carefully tucked away in the back corner of his closet, on the shelf, behind at least two other boxes.

He stood just inside the doorway for a moment, wondering if Jack would leave or if he should take the clothes back to the bathroom to dress, but decided in the end he didn’t care and crossed to the bed, dropping the towel beside the clothes as he started to pull them on half-heartedly.

Jack finally looked up from the photos. Despite Ianto’s state of undress, he never dropped eye contact, and Ianto wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. He settled for something in between them, something dull and remote and numb. It was as he was pulling on the tshirt Jack had selected, when there was a brief break in their gazes, that Jack finally spoke. “You look like you were happy together.” His voice had an odd quality to it, and Ianto was the one to reestablish eye contact when the shirt had cleared his head.

“You’re smiling, in most of these photos. More than you do now.” He shrugged. “It suits you.”

Ianto looked at the picture still in Jack’s hands. He was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I was.” Jack looked at him questioningly, and he realized he was half a conversation behind. “Happy,” he clarified. “I was happy.”

Jack looked pained for an instant. “Ianto, I-”

Ianto shook his head, letting his eyes slide off to the side again. “I know.”

Jack stood and covered the distance to him in a single stride. He grabbed Ianto’s chin and forced eye contact. Only when he was sure he had Ianto’s attention did he speak. “No, I don’t think you do. I was going to say I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m not sorry I killed it, but I’m sorry it killed her. I’m sorry you’ve been holding on to this for so long, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” Jack took a deep breath while Ianto stared in mild shock. “I just wanted to say that from here on, I’ll be here for you. I’ll pay more attention. And Ianto, if you need to talk, ever, about anything – I’m here, okay?”

Ianto had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, so he continued to stare. Jack was… apologizing? To _him_? That seemed wrong somehow, completely backwards, not at all how things should be going. Not at all what Ianto had expected the moment Jack had come in through his window. If he was honest, he’d been expecting a bullet. Or a dose of Retcon so potent he forgot everything that had ever happened to him. Instead, what he got was a heartfelt apology from a man who hadn’t wronged him, and the increasing urge to hold him.

Ianto himself hadn’t been held in so long.

He reached for Jack and tried not to react to Jack’s almost imperceptible flinch. Right. The last thing he’d said to the man had been words of hatred, vitriol spewing forth as he told Jack he would watch him die rather than save him.

His hand didn’t pause, coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder, feeling the fine wool of the greatcoat he hadn’t removed as Ianto pulled Jack to him, burying his face against Jack’s neck and just holding on, hands fisted in the fabric of the coat as he clutched at him. Jack seemed to know what he needed, enfolding Ianto in his arms after only a brief hesitation, cradling the back of his head.

Ianto was surprised to realize he was shaking, and even more surprised to feel Jack trembling against him. Jack’s arms tightened around him, pulling him closer, and Ianto went willingly.

Maybe they both needed this.

After a long moment, Jack took a shuddering breath and pulled away a respectable distance.

“The suspension still stands,” he said, but his voice was soft. “But I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight, if you’re feeling up to it.”

And to his surprise, Ianto found himself nodding and reaching for his jacket, the first real smile he’d felt in a while tugging at the corners of his lips as he followed Jack out into the evening.


End file.
